


Becoming an Ice Queen

by Penryn3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First War with Voldemort, Malfoy Manor, Marriage, Mistakes, POV Narcissa Black Malfoy, Young Narcissa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penryn3/pseuds/Penryn3
Summary: She was different now, she knew. Different to other girls - the girls of fire.





	Becoming an Ice Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story.

Narcissa Malfoy sat on a chaise made of champagne velvet, her vanity littered with bottles of sweet-smelling perfume and glass trinket boxes overflowing with strands of pearls, delicate golden bracelets and heavy necklaces adorned with gems the size of her baby's fist. Heavy draperies hung on the cold stone walls and the luxurious four poster bed held an abundance of feather filled pillows. Surrounded by the opulence of Malfoy Manor, Narcissa conceded that her mother had not been wrong when she bragged that her youngest daughter had made a good match for herself. In fact, a year ago, in her final year at Hogwarts, she had wholeheartedly agreed. She had been smug, arrogant even, to believe herself the epitome of luck - to find herself a husband that was not only approved by her parents and fabulously wealthy, but who she was also head over heels infatuated with.

She had naively believed that to be enough. 

She now sat before the gilt mirror, brushing through her long waves of heavy hair with a silver backed brush. One hundred strokes a day. A habit taught by her mother that was hard to break. But then, she had been taught many habits by her mother that were hard to break. They made up a mask that she wore daily. She was Druella Blacks pride and joy; her most boastful achievement. Druella had despaired of her other two daughters. Bellatrix was willful and independent, how could she be molded to a perfect pure-blooded wife? Andromeda was unfailingly kind - too kind, a trait that their mother neither admired nor respected. But Narcissa, oh Narcissa she could work with. Narcissa was beautiful. It wasn't vanity that made her think this, but fact. White blonde hair spilled like piles of silk around the fairest of complexions, a cherry red flower bud of a mouth sat perfectly below cheekbones so fine they could cut glass. Druella believed that beauty was a talent in itself, if used correctly. So from a young age Narcissa was poked and prodded, molded and created to be a picture perfect lady; a porcelain doll to be presented to a suitable high society pure-blooded husband. Narcissa did not disappoint. She was elegant, poised and graceful. She could charm the most sullen of aunts and mingle effortlessly with the highest of society ladies. Her tongue was sharp and her wit humorous. A single crease in her brow could bring a man to heel whilst a coy smile would bring him to his knees. 

Narcissa tilted her head, studying her reflection. She was indeed terribly beautiful, but her eyes were cold, empty in a way they had not been a year ago. Not that anybody noticed. Why would they? She had her mask on, and people saw what she wanted them to see. After all, that is what she had been breed for.

She was different now, she knew. Different to other girls - the girls of fire. That was how she thought of them. Bella was Fiendfyre, wild and uncontrollable. Dromeda was a leading light - a candle to show you the way in the darkness. Lily Potter was the merry dancing fire in your hearth that welcomed you home and kept you warm at night. But Narcissa wasn't like them. Narcissa wasn't fire, she was ice. She envied them. She sat in this rich and powerful fortress, the Ice Queen of Malfoy Manor, and dreamed that she was made of fire so that she could burn it to the ground.

Narcissa wished, not for the first time, that she could go back. Go back and slap some sense into her beautiful foolish head. Dromeda had known. She had offered her a way out, tried to convince her to go with her when she ran. She had begged Narcissa to _see_. She had offered her freedom and Cissa had laughed. See what? After all, didn't she have everything she had ever wanted?

But she, like so many other girls before her, had made the ultimate of mistakes. She had fallen for a boy, a beautiful boy, with silver eyes and a silver tongue and Narcissa believed herself to have it all. When Lucius had slipped that engagement ring onto her finger she had been a Fire Girl - one that had glowed from the inside; overcome with the possibilities of her future. But one often forgot that pretty boys with tongues of silver are hiding knives in their mouths. The mistake had been falling for a boy as beautiful and foolish as she was. She had thought that this charming boy was offering her the world on a platter, the problem being - he was. For Lucius had met another boy, just as beautiful but not half so foolish. A year later, she and Lucius were married with flowers in her hair and ice creeping into her heart, a child only she knew about sitting small and quiet in her belly. She had thought she loved Lucius, and perhaps she had, but it was nothing compared to the love she already felt for the life growing inside her, and as Tom Riddle toasted his glass to her at the reception, she felt fear overcome her like never before, thinking of the world her husband would bring their son into. She knew then, what a terrible mistake she had made.

A soft gurgling cry sounded behind her and Narcissa was up in an instant, fluttering soft hands across her baby's tiny brow, soothing the bad dream away until his small forehead uncreased and he slumbered peacefully once more. The smallest of gentle smiles broke through the icy mask of her face. She could be fire for him, she decided. Indeed, he was the only thing she cared about now. The bright spark in the wretchedness that had become her life since her husband decided that Voldemort should rule the world.

The glorious thing about being beautiful was that it hid a multitude of sins. For what they didn't realize was that Lucius's beautiful adornment of a wife was playing the game just like they were. Her pretty face hid the chaos beneath her skin and the steel in her bones and she would be damned if she wasn't going to learn to play it better than they could. She was going to become the hunter whilst pretending to be the prey.

She picked up the tiny bundle and rocked him; arms gentle and eyes hard.

Draco was hers to protect, she thought ruefully, and Merlin help anyone who tried to harm him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are everything <3


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